


careful fear and dead devotion

by xombiebean



Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Rimming, Tears, but not really sex tears but they are tears during sex?, peter loves wade so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xombiebean/pseuds/xombiebean
Summary: "What did I do to deserve you?” Wade says, depositing Peter gently on the bed.





	

“Don’t go,” Peter mumbles, feeling the bed dip as Wade gets up. “Sun’s not up yet, Daddy.” He rolls over and smushes his face against the pillows, blindly seeking the lingering warmth where Wade had slept.

“That, baby boy,” Wade whispers in his ear, his voice still rusty and deep with sleep, “is dirty pool.”

“I wish you’d dirty my pool,” Peter says nonsensically, and moans when Wade kisses his neck.

“Gotta get ready, Spidey,” he says, and Peter whines at the sudden absence of his touch.

Peter doesn’t realize how much he depends on Wade until Wade takes a job and doesn’t come home for two months. The first week without him, Peter can’t sleep. He tosses and turns, and their bed feels too big for him alone without Wade draping himself over Peter and taking over most of the bed while Peter hogs the blankets. After the first week, he gives up on sleep, patrolling until the sun peeks out over the horizon and then swinging into his apartment through the bedroom window. He crashes on the floor by Wade’s side of the bed, snatches his pillow, and gets a blessed two-and-a-half hours of sleep before his alarm clock jolts him awake. The rest of the two months crawl by in the same hollow routine: he wakes up, he goes to work, he fights crime, he comes home, he curls up on the floor, and he sleeps.

He does not dream.

 

*   *   *

 

“Sweetums,” Wade says, and Peter blinks awake from where he crashed on the floor earlier, to find Wade looming over him.  “I know it’s hard to do without my magnificent presence—”

“Don’t leave me like that again,” Peter says, near delirious with sleep deprivation. “I couldn’t sleep I was so afraid I made you up in my head.”

“Petey,” Wade breathes and then picks him up easily, as if he weighs nothing. Peter clings to him and nuzzles Wade’s neck, pressing soft kisses to his scarred skin. Wade lets out a soft, plaintive sound. “What did I do to deserve you?” he says, depositing him gently on the bed. He brackets Peter with his body, and holds him steady with a hand pressing into his side. Peter yelps in pain, and Wade topples off him in a flash.

“No,” Peter says, already reaching for him. “Please, I need you, I need—”

“Can I,” Wade says, and he’s already lifting insistently at the hem of Peter’s shirt.

“It’s not that bad,” he pleads before Wade divests him of his shirt.

And for once Wade is silent. He drags his eyes slowly over Peter’s torso and categorizes every bruise, every still-healing, pinked-up scar.

“Who did this, Peter?”

Wade’s voice is deep and threatening; Peter forgets just how terrifying Wade can be, under the joking, irreverent exterior. Peter cannot remember the last time Wade used his honest-to-god actual name. No Spidey, no baby boy. Maybe Wade doesn’t want him now. Maybe they don’t belong to each other anymore.

“I couldn’t,” Peter spits out, the memory of Wade’s absence as bitter as bile in the back of his throat. “I couldn’t remember what your hands felt like on me anymore, and I couldn’t sleep in our bed because—because you weren’t there.”

Silence stretches between them, and then Wade is back on top of him, so careful not to put too much pressure onto Peter’s bruises.

Peter feels like he’s trying to crawl into Wade’s skin, curl up behind his ribcage. He kisses him desperately, more teeth than tongue, and Wade groans over him.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby boy,” he says, pulling back, and Peter whimpers. “Stay,” he says, his voice low and commanding, as he flattens a hand over Peter’s abdomen. Peter goes boneless, watching Wade step off the bed to take off his plain white tee and sweatpants, and _oh_ , he’s missed every scar, every sore, every pockmarked edge. He’s quick and efficient, already crawling over Peter and kissing him deep while Peter tries to pull him closer, his hands palming Wade’s sides and back.

“I was terrified you weren’t coming back,” Peter gasps as Wade takes a moment to suck a hickey beneath his jaw.

Wade groans, low and deep and gutted. “I am always coming back to you, baby boy. The full fleet of Transformers couldn’t keep me from you.”

“The full fleet,” Peter says slowly, considering. “What if Loki dropped you in the middle of a wormhole?”

“Ugh,” Wade said. “The guy who fucked a horse? C’mon, total boner killer, baby boy.”

Peter laughs, and it’s a small fragile thing but it’s the first time he’s actually laughed since Wade left. “Like you haven’t fucked a horse. You’re always talking about your weird bestial hookups from your special forces days.”

“For your information,” he says loftily, “it was a camel, and she never called me after. I felt very used.”

“Mmm,” Peter hums, smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt. “Is that so?”

“Are you doubting me?” Wade asks in mock outrage. “Does someone need a spanking?”

Peter flushes and ducks his head to the side. “I’d rather you put your cock in me and fucked me so hard I feel it for a week,” he mumbles.

“What was that?” Wade asks archly. He’s smiling brightly, but his eyes are intense and focused. He goes entirely still, like a predator ready to strike, like a shark that smells blood in the water.

Peter flushes bright, his eyes trained on Wade’s chest the whole time, and says, “Fuck me, Daddy, please.” When he finally gathers the courage, he looks up. Wade’s eyes are dark and intent, and he reaches down to caress Peter’s bottom lip with his thumb. His skin is rough and calloused, making Peter shiver when it catches against the soft skin of his bottom lip. He opens his mouth and licks the tip of his thumb. Wade moans, and Peter wraps his lips around it and sucks, bobbing his head slightly and whining when Wade pulls his thumb away.

“My dick has seen exactly zero action since I last saw you, Spidey, and if you’re not careful, I’m gonna blow my load all over you in five seconds flat,” Wade says in what Peter assumes he means to be a reproving tone, but the image short-circuits his brain for a moment.

“What’s wrong with that?” Peter says.

“Fucking—what’s wrong,” he mutters, and presses the tip of his thumb against Peter’s hole. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you, baby boy.” He presses the edge in ever so slightly and Peter yelps.

“Fuck,” Peter says, and he’s through with the back-and-forth banter. “C’mon, do I need to do this myself?” He reaches blindly for the lube, his fingers scrabbling against the drawer of the bedside table, trying to open it without taking his eyes off Wade, who is here, whole and alive, and _here_.

“Tempting,” Wade says, “but I missed your juicy lil peach—”

“Wade,” Peter groans.

“—so much, I think I’d rather—” Wade ducks his head down and kisses Peter’s inner thigh, noses between thigh and groin, and lightly runs the back of his tongue against Peter’s puckered hole. Peter’s hands clench in the sheets, and his hips buck and try to bear down against Wade’s tongue, and Wade grins. “Whatever happened to your manners, Petey Pie?”

“Killing me,” Peter says drily. He throws an arm over his eyes.

“Good things come to boys who wait,” Wade sings.

Peter gently skims a hand over Wade’s scalp. “Missed you, baby,” he says.

Wade flushes and hides his face against Peter’s thigh. “Missed you,” he murmurs to Peter’s leg, and part of the sheet beneath it. He presses a kiss against the soft skin of his inner thigh and sucks, and Peter knows there’s gonna be a massive hickey there tomorrow, but he loves when Wade leaves marks on him.

He sighs, in contentment, because Wade is here with him, and Peter had forgotten just how much Wade’s presence steadies and grounds him. Wade ducks his head down and presses a filthy wet kiss to his hole. The sound is lewd, and Peter moans. Wade licks into him, and Peter whines, his ab muscles clenching and hip flexors stuttering. Peter is barely holding himself back from humping Wade’s face. His hands scrabble against the sheets, and Wade grabs his hips, hands spanning over the swell of his ass, urging him to ride against him. He rolls against Wade’s mouth, chasing the wet heat, while his tongue moves filthily inside him.

Peter feels like he's being set alight. The sounds Wade is making are obscene and dirty, and he's just as good at this as Peter remembers--greedy, eager for it--taking him apart with each stroke of his tongue. Peter can't help but whine, his hands fisting in the sheets, his back bowing off the bed, as Wade's tongue swirls inside him.

"Fuck, fuck--Wade," Peter cries out. He can feel the heat rising from his belly, his muscles seizing. He's so close; he's right at the edge--

Wade pulls off gasping, and swears viciously in Spanish. Peter stares at him. “Are you…crying?” he asks.

“No,” Wade says, dashing his arm across his face to stem the tears.

“C’mere,” Peter says, and Wade crawls up his body and tucks his face in the crook of Peter’s neck. He holds him and they just breathe together for a moment, their hearts pounding against each other. “You okay?” he asks, as he smooths a hand down the back of Wade’s head.

Wade says something, but it’s muffled.

“What?”

“I’ll never let you go, Jack,” Wade says.

Peter throws his head back and laughs—a fully belly laugh. He can feel Wade’s smile against his neck. He pulls away and ducks his head so their noses almost touch when he looks at Wade. “Let me do the work, Daddy,” he says, gently pushing Wade onto his back. Peter straddles him, his cock bobbing between them as he moves. “You want this?” he asks.

“Yeah, baby boy,” Wade says, his voice soft and reverent.

There’s something too tender and fragile in Wade’s eyes for Peter to name, and he holds Wade’s hand and kisses the knuckles. Peter didn’t know he could feel like this, as if he was simultaneously floating and grounded at the same time. His heart feels too full.

“C’mon, Spidey,” Wade says gently, as if Peter is the one who will spook at any second.

“Okay,” he says, “okay.” Peter lets go of Wade’s hand and slicks up his own fingers. He presses them in, two at once, his breath stuttering because it’s been a while. Wade gets a hand on Peter’s cock, smearing the precome and jerking him a little bit while Peter stretches himself. “Okay,” he says. “Ready.”

“You sure?” Wade looks worried.

Peter grabs the lube and slicks up Wade’s cock, and Wade grabs the base of his dick, as Peter lowers himself down onto it. Little punched-out, breathy moans keep leaving Peter’s mouth, and he feels like he’s burning up inside.

“God, I forgot how big you feel,” Peter says. He rolls his hips experimentally, and Wade gasps.

“ _Fuck._ ”

Peter rides him, grinding slowly as he adjusts to it, and he takes Wade’s hands and settles them on his hips. Wade groans, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head, as Peter picks up the pace. His hands grab Peter’s ass, hard enough to bruise, and Peter twists his hips, making them both cry out. “Don’t come, don’t come,” Peter chants, as he bounces desperately on Wade’s cock.

“Not all of us are supple twenty-something gymnasts,” Wade shoots back, and he puts his back into it, fucking up into him, chasing the high, before coming hard and slumping back on the bed. Peter moans and grinds down on Wade’s cock. Wade licks his hand and wraps it around Peter’s cock, thumbing at the slit. Peter groans and comes on Wade’s chest.

He slumps and gingerly lifts himself off of Wade’s cock, feeling the come leaking out of him. He falls onto the bed next to Wade, who is smiling dopily at him. “Stop,” Peter laughs.

“Look at you,” Wade says. He reaches out and touches Peter’s face.

“Wade.”

“Peter.”

Peter scrunches up his face, and Wade leans in and kisses him. “You taste disgusting,” Peter says.

“Like ass?” Wade says with a wide grin on his face.

“Fuck you,” Peter says, without heat, pulling away and scrubbing his hand over his face. He smiles despite himself. Wade grunts and rolls over on top of him. He’s plastered against him, the come drying between them. It’s gross. “This is gross,” Peter says, and Wade lets out a wild laugh. He settles on top of him, like a giant cat, nuzzling Peter’s throat. Wade hums against his throat. “Don’t leave me again,” he says, fear hitting him again.

“Sleep, baby boy,” Wade says. “I’m here. Me and the guardians of Voltron will protect you.”


End file.
